Monty Python and the Saint Graal
by KesAFloyd
Summary: This is what happened when I saw Spamalot and The Da Vinci Code in the same week. The knights get taunted, and Sir Leigh happens upon a renegade priest who offers him something suspicious in Holy Communion.
1. Taunted

"Halt!" Arthur cried as they approached a tall castle. They blew the signal horn and Arthur cried "Hallo!" twice before a figure appeared on the wall. He wore a butler's suit and helmet.

"Allo! Who is eet?" the figure asked.

"It is King Arthur, and these are my Knights of the Round Table. Who's castle is this?"

"This is the castle of my master, the honourable Sir Leigh Teabing." The man fidgeted in an ornery way.

"Go and tell your master that we have been charged by God with a sacred quest. If he will give us food and shelter for the night, he can join us on our quest for the Holy Grail," Arthur said, giving his usual canned speech.

"Well, I'll ask him, but I don't think he'll be very keen. Uh, he's already on one, you see."

"What?"

Galahad explained, "He says his master's already on a grail quest!"

"Are you sure he's on one?" Arthur asked the figure on the wall.

"Oh, yes. It's very time consuming-a."

"Well, u-- um, can we come up and meet him?"

The guard sighed and assumed an even more defiant posture. "Ye must answer me these questions three, ere the inside ye see! First… what is your name?"

"It is 'Arthur', King of the Britons. I told you that before."

"Second, what... would my master serve… tea or coffee?"

"Tea, I imagine," answered Arthur. He didn't think someone named TEAbing would be inclined to serve coffee.

"Correct. And thirdly, what... do you put in the tea… milk or lemon?"

Arthur recalled his granninny's strict teachings on the subject. She'd once thrown him down a well for answering that very question too hastily. He answered correctly this time with, "what kind of tea?"

The figure on the wall was utterly aghast. "Huh? I-- I don't know that!" He looked as if he would have jumped off the wall in desperation if Arthur hadn't known to keep people talking in these cases.

"Well, what kind of man are you that you don't know that?"

"I'm French! Why do think I have this outrageous accent, you silly king-a! My master is ze English type-a around here."

"What is he doing in France?"

"Mind your own business!"

"If you will not show us to your master, we shall take your castle by force!"

"You don't frighten us, English pig-dogs! Go and boil your bottom, sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at you, so-called Arthur King, you and all your silly English k-nnnnniggets."

"What a strange person," Galahad commented unnecessarily.

"Now look here, my good man--" Arthur attempted.

"I don't wanna talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper! I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"

"Is there someone else up there we could talk to?" Galahad asked. "Your master, perhaps?"

The guard sniffed. "No. Now, go away, or I shall taunt you a second time-a!"

"Now, this is your last chance. I've been more than reasonable," Arthur shouted.

Suddenly, another person appeared in the crenellation over from the guard. He was very aristocratic-looking with graying red hair. "Now, what's going on here? Have you been giving my guests a hard time? What am I paying you for, Remy?"

Remy the guard sighed.

Teabing continued, "Now, we must welcome the fellow grail seekers with a proper meal. Fetchez la vache."

"Quoi?"

"Fetchez la vache! Oh, never mind, I'm never going to master this inferior language of yours. Get the filet mignon you've been cooking."

Somewhere off in the shrubberies, a voice radioed to the authorities on his divine ear, "I have confirmed the location of the criminals. Fetchez la Fache."

Meanwhile, an albino monk approached as well, chanting softly and periodically whacking himself on the head with a board.


	2. The Tale of Sir Leigh

**The Tale of Sir Leigh**

When the knights went their separate ways, Sir Leigh rode north for several days through drizzly swamps filled with fearsome beasts unseen. One morning, as he approached a clearing in the woods, he heard the sounds of prayer and rasping.

"Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" said one of the voices.

"Accccckkkkkkkkkkkk," added another.

Several people coughed.

"Could it be plague?" Sir Leigh wondered, but his curiosity overtook him. He rode into the clearing to find a small band of people taking Holy Communion. The priest offered each communion-taker a wafer and a sip from a golden chalice. Each, in turn, gagged horribly after swallowing the liquid.

"I say there," said the priest after giving communion to the last man. "How long has it been since you received the holy host?"

"Too long," answered Leigh. "But I am afeared of what you hold in that cup."

"Nothing but the vintage of our good Lord's grapes, my son."

I know what you're thinking. It's not actually THAT dirty.

"Very well, then." Sir Leigh dismounted. Remy hung up his coconuts and handed Leigh his crutches. They were the awful medieval kind made out of twigs, and with no hand grips.

"I suppose I'll have to give you my confession before you begin the Eucharist," said Leigh as he crutched over to the priest.

"Oh, no, no. Don't worry about that. I trust you," replied the priest, grinning amiably. Hmmm… I think this is Michael Palin here.

"All right, then."

The priest said the benediction and placed a wafer on Leigh's tongue. He waited long enough for it to dissolve, and then held the chalice up to Leigh's lips. Leigh sipped, and was suddenly overcome with utter disgust. He barely managed to swallow the liquid.

"Ack! Vinegar!" He flailed his arms dramatically as his hands found his throat. "You're not supposed to use vinegar as the blood of our Lord Christ!"

"Oh, so you're one of those old-fashioned types," commented the priest.

"I beg your pardon?" Leigh turned to look at the filthy horde of renegade churchgoers leering at him from behind. His throat was still burning.

"Well, we see it this way," said the priest. "Wine-making is a difficult process. If you don't prepare your equipment properly, the whole lot spoils and you get sharp wine such as what is in this chalice here. Now, given that Christ was kind of in a hurry at the last supper with the impending crucifixion and all, does it not seem reasonable that he might have skipped a few steps in the wine-making process?"

"I don't follow."

"My church here believes that Christ might have, uh, failed to sterilize his grail properly before performing his whole water-into-wine miracle. If you don't sterilize your grail, you get unexpected surprises."

"That sounds reasonable."

"Now, we've done several experiments to test our hypothesis on this matter. When you fill the bottle with grape juice and sugar and yeast and all that, you gots to put a little expandable rubber thing on top of the opening. That lets air escape during the fermentation process without letting anything back in to contaminate the chalice, if you know what I mean. Now, supposing Christ forgot to put on his little rubber thing…"

"I'm getting the picture now."

"And this is why we offer vinegar at our communion. If you don't like it, then you can go back to your pansy-assed wine-drinking religion, but then again, you would never know the true miracle of the last supper, then, now would you?"

"I think I may get going now, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. But next time you want to make wine, be sure to remember your little rubber thing. Your church will certainly approve. Farewell."

Leigh handed his crutches back to Remy, who stowed them in his enormous pack. He remounted his steed and trotted off into the dark forest.


End file.
